Our sex life it seems is a bustHis technique leaves me truly nonplussedI'd far rather not kissHis insect proboscisAnd he'd rather hover than thrust.
We once exchanged vows and some ringsBut now he's so sticky he clingsAs his pincer disrobes meI wince while he probes meI guess he's just one of those things
With the head of a fly and the thoraxThe sight of him leaves me quite pole-axedI've screamed till I'm hoarseFor fault-based divorceNow I'm spraying the fellow with borax.
I can't top that for hilarious product placement!
I have tried to suppress expectations,to deny the unpleasant sensationsBut I feel my gorge risewhen I peer in his eyesI might die from the sex complications
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